The Law of Nines

“Other than knowing that these people are dangerous, we’re largely in the dark as to what’s going on,” Alex added, not completely, one hundred percent convinced that the man was not somehow connected with Radell Cain and trying to suck them into a trap. If Mike Fenton was on Cain’s side, Alex didn’t want to give the man the idea that Jax and he could provide answers he didn’t have. “You probably know more than we do. We’re hoping that when we meet, you can fill us in on just what this is all about.”

“Let’s stay in touch,” Mike said. “Keep me updated as you get closer.”

“I will. Good-bye for now,” Alex said.

“Good-bye.”

Alex flipped the phone closed. He glanced over at Jax. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Jax shook her head. “The Law of Nines is something from my world. It has to do with how things work in my world. I don’t see how anyone here could know about it.”

“It’s involved in my world now, too,” he reminded her. “So you think it’s another ambush?”

Her mouth twisted in thought as she considered for a moment. “I don’t know, but the man seems to ring true to me.”

“He could be conning us. I never suspected Dr. Hoffmann of working for Cain, or those nurses and orderlies being from your world.”

“The only thing I know for sure is that Cain would like nothing more than to capture you,” she said. “We can’t allow that.”

“What do you say we hope Mike Fenton and the others are on our side, but be prepared for them being on Cain’s.”

“That’s all we can do.”

47.

LOOK, THERE,” JAX SAID, POINTING. “Hammond Street, two miles.” Alex glanced over at the green sign in the mist as they sailed past it on their way north. It was late in the afternoon. Traffic was getting heavier as rush hour approached.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure the road was clear as he pulled into the right lane. He had just gone by a woman in a small car who looked to be terrified by the weather conditions. It was annoying not having a rearview mirror, but to get over his annoyance Alex had only to recall the desperate fight when a man from Jax’s world had appeared in the back seat of the Cherokee. Alex saw that the woman he’d just passed had a death grip on the wheel. Her eyes stared unblinking straight ahead as she single-handedly created a traffic snarl, so afraid of danger that she had become danger itself.

Jax pointed. “Hammond Street, one mile.”

Over the long drive, Jax had developed into a good navigator. It had only taken her a short time to overcome her uneasiness at traveling at highway speeds. She was now an old pro.

She was good at reading maps and had good eyesight, so she was adept at picking out signs in the distance for different highways they had needed to take on their way east and then north. She also kept a lookout for any cars—or pirate plumbing trucks—that might be following them. Several times they had taken exits and detours to be certain that cars that stayed on their tail were not really following them.

Jax had been amazed at the size of some of the cities they had gone through and couldn’t get enough of the sights and changing scenery as they crossed the country. She was a tourist in a strange land. Her childlike wonder never failed to make Alex smile.

They had stopped at night only long enough to get the sleep they needed to keep going. Alex knew that they both were still working the drugs out of their systems. Jax especially still needed rest to recover from her ordeal. Given the nature of the people after them, they knew that they had to stay alert. It was also fatiguing to constantly remain on the lookout for anything that might be suspicious.

Alex had been able to persuade her to cover herself up with a blanket in the back seat and get some sleep along the way. He could tell how much she still hurt because he didn’t have too difficult a time convincing her to rest. She hated missing all the sights, and she didn’t like leaving him to be the lone lookout, but she needed the rest and she knew it.

As they drove up through the seemingly endless woods of Maine, she looked to finally be a lot better. She had stared longingly out the window at the passing forests. He knew that they reminded her of home.

Alex turned on the windshield wipers as he took the Hammond Street exit. From his brief look, the city of Bangor seemed old and tired. Some of the houses did look grand, but in a bygone-era sort of a way. It looked like a peaceful, low-key place to live, a place where people made do with what they had, and not a whole lot ever changed, except with the slow rot of time.

He followed Mike Fenton’s directions and in short order they saw the red glow of the sign for the Downeaster Motel. There were a lot of cars in the front parking lot. The portico in front stood at the head of two parallel sections of rooms running back from there in a U shape.